


Calling From Above

by tricksterity



Category: Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 11:22:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1185654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tricksterity/pseuds/tricksterity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even as he clutched his hand around the card in his hand, the small light pulsing under his palm, he knew that he had to go back. He’d hoped that he could move forward and put the Grid behind him… but that was an impossibility. He had a responsibility to the programs, to all that he’d derezzed or had been derezzed in his name, to fix what he’d broken. To put their world back together after the tyrant that was Clu.</p>
<p>(aka yet another fic where Sam goes back to the Grid to repair what was broken)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Back to the Grid

**Author's Note:**

> Before we get started I am just going to say that Tron: Legacy is the only film out of the Tron series I've seen. The only information I have going into this is from said film and some other fics that I've read, so please don't flame me or yell at me if I get something wrong or miss something out. This is just a little project of mine I'm putting up with a few of my own ideas. Hope you enjoy!

Sam woke up with a sudden jolt exactly a week after he lost his father. His hand came up to grasp the small card that had been digging into the back of his neck, the entire Grid compressed into such a small thing. It was almost unbelievable that under his hand, there were disc wars and light cycle races and actual programs that people had written that had personalities of their own. 

It amazed him sometimes that every program in the world, the entire system, had materialized into this digital world. He wondered what happened to them when they were derezzed.

Sam shut his eyes, and he could almost hear Quorra’s breathing from the next room over. Once he’d taken back Encom – a surprisingly difficult, annoying and confusing process with a lot of paperwork and even more coffee involved – he’d decided that a shipping container house really wasn’t going to cut it. He and Quorra moved to a nice, loft-esque apartment just on the edge of the city district, and every day he’d introduce Quorra to an array of new things that her eyes would light up over.

He smiled as he thought of her, how he’d always wanted to have a sibling, and now he had her, almost like a younger sister to take care of. Especially when she demanded pancakes or waffles for breakfast on a Wednesday morning. Of course, she wasn’t younger than him in Grid years, in fact she had a couple hundred years on him, but she still maintained that innocent sense of wonder. Sam hoped it would never leave her.

Even as he clutched his hand around the card in his hand, the small light pulsing under his palm, he knew that he had to go back. He’d hoped that he could move forward and put the Grid behind him… but that was an impossibility. When his father reintegrated with Clu, he had no idea how much destruction that might have caused. He was a User, and if the Grid had been destroyed… it was up to him to put it back together. He had a responsibility to the programs, to all that he’d derezzed or had been derezzed in his name, to fix what he’d broken. To put their world back together after the tyrant that was Clu.

With a sigh, Sam got up, knowing that sleep would evade him until the sun broke over the horizon, and he had a lot of planning to do. Namely, figuring out a schedule that would allow him to fix both Encom and the Grid.

 

Eight a.m. had just rolled around when Quorra stumbled out of bed, hair mussed up and mouth wide open in a yawn. It was kind of adorable how human she’d become in just a week. 

“You’re up early,” she noticed, and Sam nodded around his – what, third? – cup of coffee. He knew there were dark bags under his eyes and he was in disarray, laptop screen alight with multiple programs (what would they look like?) open on the desktop. 

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” Sam said, stifling a yawn. 

“About…?” Quorra asked, tinkering with the coffee machine.

“I need to go back to the Grid,” Sam admitted, and Quorra nearly dropped the mug she was holding, whether in shock or excitement, Sam couldn’t tell. 

“Why?” Quorra asked. 

“I have no idea how much damage the reintegration did, what the state of the Grid is like at the moment. I’m a User, the only User who knows about it, and I have a responsibility to set things right,” Sam said, dragging a hand over his tired face. Quorra sat in the chair next to him, excitement lighting up her eyes.

“You’re going to fix the Grid?” she asked excitedly, before her expression morphed into something akin to worry. “Even before you arrived, there were programs who hated Users, thought it was blasphemy. The red-circuited ones, although most of them were most likely repurposed by Clu, we have no idea of the numbers who actually despise Users. Considering recent events, they might just kill you on site, whether the reintegration was you or not,” Quorra admitted. 

“Most of them were on that ship though,” Sam argued. “The repurposed ones.”

“Even still, Sam, you’ve been gone a week. In Grid time, they could’ve amassed an army by now,” Quorra said, worrying her lip.

“But what about the programs who believe in Users, or are neutral programs? I need to be there for them – hell, we don’t even know if any programs survived the reintegration or not!”

“I don’t want you to get hurt, Sam,” Quorra said, grasping Sam’s hand between her own. “You’re the closest I’ve had to a real family since Flynn, and since the ISOs… you aren’t good enough to take on an army.”

“I’m a User, I have tricks up my sleeve,” Sam joked. “Also… I have you.” Quorra jerked back in shock. “You’re coming with me, right?” 

“I…” Quorra trailed off, still looking at Sam like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Sam couldn’t quite figure whether it was because she believed that she’d never go back to the Grid again, or because she didn’t want to go back. Sam hoped it was the former, because having a warrior like her to protect his back would be a huge relief, especially if they were up against an army like she feared.

“I didn’t know if you were going to go back at all,” Quorra said. “I love it here… but if I can help in any way I’m coming with you. Someone needs to watch your back, after all,” she said, face lighting up with a smile he usually only saw when Jules Verne was mentioned.

“Thanks, Quorra,” he said sincerely, grasping her shoulder. “There’s just one more problem, though.”

“What?” she asked.

“We need someone we can trust to monitor the laser to make sure that we don’t get trapped in their like Dad. Someone like Alan,” Sam said. He’d been thinking about it for hours – the only surefire way to make sure they didn’t get stuck was to have someone completely trustworthy Earth-side to reactivate the laser if they were Grid-side too long. Naturally, the only other person Sam trusted other than Marvin, was Alan. Which meant trying to convince his godfather that they weren’t insane and that the Grid actually existed, which was probably either going to be surprisingly easy or incredibly difficult.

 

As it was, Alan took the news, thankfully, surprisingly well. He said that it explained a lot of things – Flynn’s insane ramblings the days before he left, Quorra’s sudden appearance, Sam’s personality change between night and morning – and agreed to monitor the laser.

“I can’t believe that you just accept my word for it,” Sam muttered as he opened up the arcade, and Alan laughed.

“You’ve never once lied to me, kiddo, and you’re not the kind of person who makes up insane stories for no reason,” Alan said. He did, however, look rather shocked when the Tron console pushed aside to reveal the hidden door and stairs to the basement office, like he still hadn’t been entirely convinced. 

“So Quorra and I are gonna go in to assess the damage. Set the laser up for an hour first, and if that’s enough time we’ll come out. Otherwise, wait another hour and then set it up again for three hours, to give us enough time to either get out of whatever situation we’re in, or to rebuild – whatever. If we’re not out by then, repeat the one-three hour cycle. If we’re still not out, I’ll send you a page if we’re okay, and if I don’t, we’re in trouble and you need to come and get us out,” Sam explained.

Alan, always calm and unruffled, nodded. Sam grasped the man on the shoulders and then brought him in for a hug.

“Thanks, man,” he said gratefully. He pulled back to see the beginnings of tears swimming in Alan’s eyes.

“Be careful, kid,” Alan said. Sam nodded, plugged in the backup Grid chip, and set the laser up. He and Quorra stood in front of it, and when the laser aperture command came up, he wasted no time in pressing yes. 

A flash of black-blue, and they were in the grid.


	2. World Without Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Quorra re-enter the Grid and aren't prepared for what and whom they find.

Sam had been prepared for anything – chaos, destruction, armies, fighting – but not for what lay before him. He and Quorra materialized on the edges of the Sea of Simulation, looking out to Tron City. Everything was dark, not a single light on, no bright circuits lighting their path, no red or blue or green programs lighting up the darkness. The only light was the portal, hanging in suspension far above the city, like the moon shining down upon a ghost town.

“What the hell?” Sam muttered. 

“The power’s gone out…” Quorra whispered. “The damage of reintegration plus the loss of the sysadmin, everything and everyone’s gone dark.” 

“Except us, apparently,” Sam said, looking down to find that he and Quorra were garbed in their armour, white circuits shining out like a torch on the rocky plains of the outlands. Sam reached back to find that his disc was in place, and a quick glance at Quorra confirmed that hers was too.

“I guess we’ve got to go and see what we can do, see if anyone survived the shutdown,” Sam said. Quorra nodded, and the two began their hike towards Tron City, the sharp black ground of the outlands making their approach slow, like walking over hardened and cooled lava. They were almost halfway to the outskirts of the city when Sam paused, squinting at what should’ve been impossible considering the shutdown.

“Sam? What is it?” Quorra asked.

“Are you seeing that?” Sam asked, looking at the smallest speck of light in the distance, lying on the ground.

“Yeah… I see it,” Quorra muttered. “A program?”

“Not sure, let’s go and see,” Sam said, pulling his disc out and at the ready. If it was a program – he couldn’t identify the circuitry colour at this distance – he didn’t know if it was a friendly. Quorra did the same, and slowly they approached the light as it became closer, and Sam was only a few meters away when he recognized what it was.

“Shit, that’s Rinzler’s identity disc,” Sam swore. Knowing that the program wouldn’t leave his disc out in the open like that (if he was still alive), and the fact that he definitely sacrificed himself for them in the end (if he actually died), Sam docked his disc and reached down to pick up Rinzler’s disc (or was it Tron, now?). He tried to split it, but found it impossible.

“This is only one of them, I remember he dropped them when you kicked him off the ship,” Sam noted, and Quorra seemed rather pleased with herself. “We need to find the other one, it has to be somewhere nearby.” 

Sam scoured the shoreline for a sign of light, which shouldn’t be too difficult considering the near absolute darkness they were in, while Quorra climbed to the top of a particularly large peak in the outlands to peer out.

“I see it!” Quorra shouted, her voice echoing in the emptiness. “It’s at the shoreline, keep heading towards the city!”

Sam began to head down the shoreline, Quorra joining him a few moments later once she’d descended the peak, and he saw it as soon as he passed around a corner. Next to the disc was a strange dark shape, and Sam wasn’t sure if it was a dark program or just more of the outlands. He approached carefully, and picked up the second disc, keeping an eye on the shape. He fit both of Rinzler’s discs together, coming together seamlessly, and it wasn’t until he was standing right above the shape he realized that it was indeed a program gone dark – it was Rinzler.

“Ah, shit,” Sam swore. 

“That’s him, isn’t it?” Quorra said.

“Yeah, the thing is, I’m not entirely sure who he’s going to be when we wake him up,” Sam muttered.

“What do you mean?” Quorra asked, and Sam realized that she hadn’t been there when Flynn realized that Rinzler was Tron, as she’d been too busy removing herself from the equation.

“You know how Dad thought Tron was derezzed when they were ambushed by Clu?” Sam asked, still peering down at the program, and Quorra nodded. “He wasn’t. Clu must’ve corrupted his programming somehow, turning him into his pet,” Sam almost spat.

“You mean… Tron is Rinzler?” Quorra asked, shocked.

“Yeah, and he was Rinzler up until he sacrificed himself and slammed his light jet into Clu’s, saving us. I assumed he’d been derezzed when he fell into the Sea, but apparently not. I’m just not sure if we’ll be waking up Rinzler or Tron,” Sam said. He couldn’t help but feel a tug in his stomach, remembering how he’d hero-worshipped Tron when he was younger, begging his Dad to take him to the Grid to meet him, how he still had that light-up action figure in a dusty old box shoved away in a closet. 

“We could take him into the city and secure him before we reboot him,” Quorra suggested, and Sam didn’t really see any other option. He passed Rinzler’s red-and-white discs to Quorra, and then hauled the program over his shoulder into a fireman’s lift.

“Wish we had a light runner or something,” he muttered, checking the holsters on Rinzler’s thighs, finding nothing. 

“The terrain looks a bit smoother from here on out, but we can swap if you want,” Quorra teased, sticking her tongue out. Sam rolled his eyes and continued on towards the city, the heavy, dead, cold weight of Rinzler pressing down on him. He just hoped that when he rebooted him – if he could – that white lights would shine out rather than red. 

 

The city was even worse up close, as they walked through the streets, staring at motionless programs. Most of them were standing upright, as though paralyzed, looking up at the portal with expressions of shock or fear frozen on their faces before the shockwave had shut them all down. Some were frozen mid-step, others had fallen down like toppled mannequins, and Sam had no idea where to start. Without their circuits on, he didn’t know who was friend or foe, where safety would be when (or if) he managed to reboot the entire Grid. 

“Do you know somewhere we can go for now?” Sam said, noticing the empty space where the End of Line club had originally been.

“Phi Sector is usually relatively empty, we should be safe if we can get to one of the top floors. Are you okay carrying him by yourself?” Quorra asked, this time all teasing gone from her face. She was paler, if that was possible, and her hands seemed to be shaking slightly, staring wide-eyed at the frozen programs. Sam sent her an encouraging smile and hoisted Rinzler higher up onto his shoulder, the weight getting heavier, unlike when Quorra had been unconscious and she barely weighed anything. Mind you, Rinzler – _Tron_ – had been one of the oldest programs on the Grid, maybe that had something to do with his weight, as strange and slightly metaphysical as that sounded. 

“I’m okay, let’s get to this sector as quickly as possible so we can figure out what the hell happened,” Sam said. Quorra led him through the streets, block by block, the circuitry lines on the ground dead but they still had the silver sector symbols that shone in the light of the portal, leading them towards Phi Sector. It was one of the smaller sectors northwest of the portal, but even with everything frozen and dead Sam could still tell it wasn’t the friendliest of neighborhoods, which was probably why it was so empty. 

They encountered their first problem when they reached the lobby, and realized that the elevator wouldn’t work without power.

“Can you turn it on without jumpstarting the whole Grid by accident?” Quorra asked, in a way that would’ve been teasing if she weren’t still shaking.

“I can try – hold him,” Sam replied, passing Rinzler over to Quorra, who took him like he weighed nothing. Maybe it was a program thing. Sam put his fingertips on the wall like he’d seen his father do in the elevator, and coding appeared before him, floating in mid-air. It took him a while to separate the coding for just the elevator, and managed to turn it on with a whirr. Sam smiled in relief, and realized that it was the first proper User thing he’d ever done on the Grid.

“I feel like my Dad,” Sam said, mostly to himself, but he caught the smile that Quorra gave him from the edge of his vision. He’d lost his father, but had managed to find him again on the Grid. 

They pulled up to the top floor and chose a room that looked unlived in (although Sam wasn’t sure what the signs of a lived-in room for a program looked like), and they put Rinzler down onto the couch. 

“So… what now?” Sam mumbled, scratching the back of his neck.

“We need to secure him just in case,” Quorra said. “You can probably materialize something to hold him down with, and I’ll re-attach his disc and reboot him, and we’ll go from there.” Sam took in a deep breath and exhaled, then nodded to Quorra. He placed his hand on the wall behind the couch and brought up the same coding as before, and input a few new lines. Something similar to chains sprang out of the wall, and Sam tied together Rinzler’s wrists behind his back, hoping that it would be enough to contain a recently shut down program. 

He stood back and held his disc at the ready, just in case the red lights came on. He nodded, and Quorra re-attached Rinzler’s discs, giving them a sharp click to the right, and then hurried back to grab her own disc.

Immediately Rinzler began to reboot, whirring with a frankly worrying sound, but luckily it wasn’t the weird growl-purring that Sam had heard whenever the program was near. He started when Rinzler’s circuits began to flicker, firstly that dark red, then to a blue-white, then off again, repeating the cycle so much Sam could feel the beginnings of a headache. He could tell that the security program was having difficulty figuring out where his allegiances lay, and he decided to take a chance.

“Tron?” he asked. The program froze, shut down the lights, and then they all flickered on a strong, bright white. Sam sighed in relief, but didn’t put away his identity disc. For a few moments, Tron remained still where he was, and then looked up to Sam, who wished that he could see the program through his dark helmet.

“User,” Tron said, without the malice in his voice from the disc wars arena.

“Do you remember who you are?” Sam asked. Tron hesitated.

“Rin- Tron. I am _Tron_ ,” the program said defiantly. “I fight for the Users.” Sam smiled, and put his disc away. “You are Sam Flynn." 

“Yeah, what’s the last thing you remember?” Sam asked.

“…Overcoming my corrupted programming that Clu implemented. Seeing Flynn for the first time in a thousand cycles. Fighting for the Users, sinking into the Sea of Simulation,” Tron said, voice far away in remembrance.

“And before that?” Sam asked warily.

“ _Rinzler_ ,” Tron hissed, circuits flickering. “I fought for Flynn after Clu had corrupted my guards, repurposed them to fight for him. I told Flynn to run and fought my friends and tackled Clu. He was going to derezz me, but instead he corrupted me the same way he had my guards. I had no memory of my past self until I saw your father again,” Tron explained. 

“You’re unstable,” Sam noticed. Tron nodded without hesitation.

“I have overcome the corruption but it is still present in my code. Removing it entirely would be… unwise,” Tron said, sounding surprisingly hesitant. 

“Can you remain yourself?” Sam asked, the most important question. It hung poignant in the air for moments, before Tron nodded.

“Yes,” he said. Then the helmet that had forever blocked Sam’s vision of him retracted, and Sam and Quorra both jolted a little when they recognized the face underneath the helmet.

“You look like Alan,” they said simultaneously. Tron cracked a little smile.

“Alan-One is my User, and I understand programs generally look like their Users,” Tron informed, and Sam shook his head a little.

“Man, that is so weird,” he said, staring at Tron a little more, unbelieving that this was the program that he’d practically idolized and hero-worshipped as a child.

“I had a light-up action figure of you when I was ten,” Sam blurted, and Tron smiled wider.

“Your father would always talk about you,” he replied. Sam chuckled quietly. He’d been a little devastated when his father had told him Tron’s fate, even as an adult he still had that vague sense of idolization carried over from his childhood, and when he’d realized that Rinzler was Tron and that he’d sacrificed himself for them… his chest had filled with sadness and a little bit of pride. And now he was standing before him, smiling with a younger version of Alan’s face and it was a little bit surreal.

“Okay, I’m gonna get rid of the shackles. That okay?” Sam asked, slowly approaching the program.

“Sam…” Quorra said, still looking a little weary. 

“We have to give him a chance, Quorra,” Sam said. “The sheer amount of willpower it would take to overcome a thousand year corruption? Unimaginable. We can trust him,” Sam said, hoping that his words were true, and not just a child’s hope. He placed his hand on the wall and deactivated the chain sequence, and they derezzed before his eyes. He stood back, and Tron rolled his wrists and got up from the couch, and Sam frowned as he noticed the program was now slightly taller. He could’ve sworn that Tron was shorter than him, and then realized the difference – Rinzler had been in almost a perpetual crouch, a weapon always watching, whereas Tron stood up tall and straight, giving just a few more inches to his height. 

Sam clicked his tongue and stood back as Tron took off his identity disc, splitting them in two.

“Why do you have two?” Sam asked, noticing that the red glow from the middle of the disc didn’t change to white.

“I took it off one of Clu’s black guards during the ambush, when Clu repurposed me the disc must have wiped itself entirely and replaced it with my data,” Tron said, slightly unsure. He too stared at the red in the center of the disc, but didn’t say anything as he put them together and re-docked them, a pensive expression on his face. He then looked out the window and realized that the entire city had gone dark.

“What happened?” Tron asked.

“The Grid shut down after reintegration between my Dad and Clu. We were hoping you could help out,” Sam said. Tron gazed out the window at the dead city below, frozen programs dark in perpetual fear.

“I’ll do my best,” Tron said, and Sam smiled.


End file.
